


The Weakest Link

by alifetime



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mike Wheeler Loves Will Byers, Other, Past Child Abuse, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing, Platonic Soulmates, Sad Will Byers, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Suicide Attempt, Will Byers Loves Mike Wheeler, Will Byers Needs a Hug, Will Byers has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Will Byers-centric, but he just doesn't know it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-05-02 12:55:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14545215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alifetime/pseuds/alifetime
Summary: Warnings!: suicide/suicide attempt/past child abuse.Will no longer feels the need to try, to be happy or to even breathe anymore. It seems as if no one is there to help him. He is, after all, the weakest link.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> please note that there is attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, past child abuse ... if this makes you uncomfortable then please click off. 
> 
> this is a two parter. the first part is quite miserable to read. but the second i promise will be full of cuddles and kisses! -specifically between our favourite boys!

 It has been four whole years since he disappeared. The weather, the lack of sun, the month and even everyone’s moods told him so. He watched on carefully as Mike, his best friend, took ahold of his girlfriends small hand, squeezing tightly, reassuringly.

Jane is always anxious this time around, like many of them. She got cuddles. People talked to her in soft, gentle voices. Hopper spoiled her a lot more. They were doing everything to make her comfortable.

That is why Will can’t help but feel rather bitter at the situation. He was gone too. He was trapped in another world with no food and hardly any water and he survived. He went through a year of puking up horrid, little creatures, bringing them into his own world; recurring nightmares of being stuck again; flashbacks triggered by even the mention of it. Not to mention, his body was taken over by a malicious creature sought to take every single human out. Apart from Joyce’s constant check ups and coddling, no one else seemed to remember that Will had been through a hard time too.

It would never occur to him to tell anyone that he cried himself to sleep; that sleep only turned into a good two hours before he’s jolted awake by another bad dream; for the rest of the night he does not sleep at all. He purposely avoids as much food as possible; just the smell of it makes him sick, even the thought of it makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. It is no secret between him and Dustin that sometimes if he does so much as taste food from eating lunch in school, he quickly gets up and rushes to the toilet. Dustin is always there, sitting behind him—maybe awkwardly—but he helps him as he dry heaves painfully.

Some selfish part of him wishes it was Mike. Mike—his best friend since kindergarten—hasn’t so much as asked Will if he’s okay. Not in the last couple of years—ever since Jane came back into his life. And a deep pang always set itself deep within Will when that happened.

Currently, Will sat around the breakfast table which accompanied Hopper, Jane, Joyce. He once again played with his cereal that was set in front of him. Joyce and Hopper were talking quietly and Jane was just finishing her eggo’s. Jane had woken up a bit on the anxious side this morning and Hopper and Joyce were just discussing whether she should go to school or not. Even Joyce hadn’t bothered with Will’s little coddling session this morning. They were too preoccupied with Jane.

It never occurred to Will to be jealous of Jane. He did want her to feel as snug as possible in their home. He just wished someone would finally realise that he too was hurting.

Will now guessed this is what it’s going to be like until the day they fly the nest. Perhaps even forever. Now Will knows how Jonathon feels. Before Jane, Will was Joyce’s top priority. She cared for Jonathon and pampered him just like any other mother should, but Will has always been the smallest and youngest. It’s no secret that Jonathon can take care of himself. But now with Jane taking not only his mothers attention away—friends too—he can finally have a taste of Jonathon’s own medicine. And if sucked. Will truly wished his older brother were here right now. Maybe they can both comfort each-other.

“Are you feeling quite well, honey?” Joyce leaned over to press a gentle hand over Jane’s forehead. She looked down at her nearly empty plate. A glum expression coursed itself over her face as she shook her head. Joyce and Hopper looked at each-other knowingly. “You can stay home if you like. One of the boys can bring you missed work.” Jane only nodded and smiled a bit. Joyce then turned to Will and raised her eyebrows. This is so he can confirm her words. Will also only nodded, feeling exhaustion hugging at his small body.

Without the two adults and Jane paying much attention, Will threw his cereal away and went to the bathroom. Once he had done brushing his teeth he stood there for a little while longer, staring into the mirror. At least by the looks of it he was growing a few inches. That made him a little more hopeful. Still standing at the same height as Jane was quite embarrassing, especially at the age of sixteen. Though he took pride on the fact that he had taken over Max a couple of years earlier, making her the shortest of the group.

Eyes travelled over to the sinks side. There stood Jane’s sleeping and anxiety pills. The doctors had pulled Will off of his meds a year after the possession of that creature.

Hopper had commented, “ _The kid doesn’t need them anymore—look at him, he’s fine._ ”

Will is not fine. He can never sleep properly. He covers up his anxiety by walking to the library, in school and even at home he would cycle all the way there just to be on his own and read or draw. No one sees him struggling. To him it feels as if he’s holding out his hand, waiting for someone to pull him back up but no cares enough to save him. In all honesty, he’s tired of pulling himself back up on his feet.

A brief flicker of something caught the corner of his eyes. A small whimper emitted from his mouth.

The Upside Down ... It flashed before his eyes ... and then it was gonna again.

Nervous tremors sent shivers through his body. And he startled when there was a knock on the door.

“C’mon kid, you’ve been in there for a good ten minutes,” the deep, groggy voice of Hopper sounded through the door.

Will hesitated. Then, with shaky, fast fingers, he snatched the bottle with Jane’s anxiety meds in and took two of them, swallowing achingly. It’s not the first time he has stolen Jane’s pills. From time-to-time Will would have an incredibly dull and non-verbal day. The only thing that kept him going was the magic of a pill in his eyes. Maybe the comfort of taking them made him think he was getting better, hence why he relied on them.

Nonetheless, they worked their powers and decreased the speed of Will’s beating heart. The reason for not asking if he could perhaps go back into the meds is fear of being scolded at. Will didn’t go through half of what Jane’s did. Why should he get help?

He rushed to open the door and gracefully slipped past Hopper on his way out. Without checking the time, he threw on his coat and backpack, kissed Jane on the cheek (who was making her way to her room) as a goodbye and ran out of the door. Joyce was nowhere in sight so he didn’t bother with a goodbye, though he knew his mother would be upset about it. Nevertheless, Will vastly grabbed his bike, ran along the dirt road before hopping onto it, making his long journey to school.

Once the pills started kicking in he could feel his heart rate beginning to diminish. The grip on his handlebars were not so strong, colour now flooding back into his small fingers. Wind pushed at his face, biting at his skin. It caused yet another tremor to course up his spine and into his arms. He hated the cold with a passion. Nothing good ever came from the cold. It gave you pain. It gave Will horrid flashbacks to when _He_ took control of his body. So as of now, he was no fan of the autumn and winter.

The school was practically empty by the time he got there. None of his friends bikes stood by the bike rack. He decided it would be best to wait for them in the canteen, their normal hang out place before school officially starts. The canteen was deserted, just like the rest of the school, bar from a few other students sitting at the tables. Will put his backpack in his lap and rummaged through it until he found his sketch book and pencils. He wiped any remaining crumbs from the table and set the pad down, opening it to the last thing he was sketching.

Half a picture of his beloved dog Chester came onto the page. It wasn’t a real life sketch, nor a cartoon one. It was in the middle, with realistic strokes of the fur with an adorable, animated face, tongue sticking out in a happy smile. Will’s own smile graced his lips at the half finished picture. His old friend was standing on his last paws now and Will doesn’t want him to leave the world so soon yet. Chester seemed to be the only one to take care of Will nowadays as did Will for Chester. He would sleep on Will’s bed every night and cuddle him in the evenings. Will would sneak out going to the woods to walk Chester and then they would sit together in Castle Byers. His old buddy came to Will for snuggles when Joyce was occupied with Jane. Will would sink into his freshly, clean coat and run his nimble fingers through the white fluff. It was a coping mechanism for him. If he could not take any pills to calm his anxiety, then puppy therapy is the next best thing in his eyes.

Pencil just barley grazing the page, hands jumped at his shoulders causing him to startle and drop the object at hand. Dustin came into view with a huge, toothy grin.

“Hey, Will,” he greeted.

“Hey,” said Will quietly. He picked up the pencil again and started sketching.

“What are you doing here so early?” asked Dustin.

Will could ask Dustin the same question but then remembers clearly that Dustin was always the first one to arrive at school.

“Just ... I don’t know,” said Will, leaning down more as to make himself more small. Dustin nodded at his answer, seemingly not wanting to push Will any further. They sat in a somewhat tense and uncomfortable silence. Only Will’s shake of a hand on paper and Dustin’s silence to observe him hung in the air. Dustin knew there was something wrong. But he didn’t want to upset Will.

Eventually, Lucas arrived along with Mike. Lucas gave Dustin a look that suggested the question, “ _Is Will okay?_ ” Dustin shrugged. Mike didn’t even notice Will’s melancholic aura. Instead, he looked around with furrowed eyebrows and worry crossing past his eyes.

“Where is El?” he asked. He looked at Will for guidance and Will only shook his head, looking back down.

“Sick,” he said.

“Oh...” The disappointment in his voice was evident. Will may of hated it when Mike did nothing but direct all of his time and effort for Jane, but when Jane isn’t around at all, it was always Jane this and Jane’s that. Sometimes Will felt invisible to Mike. Piece by piece was that boy tearing his heart apart. Every continued name of Jane not only rattled Will but the rest of them as well. “Is she okay?”

“It’s October,” commented Lucas. “You know how she gets.”

“Yeah,” mumbled Mike as he sat down. “Hope she’s okay. I’ll visit her after school.”

Soon enough, Max arrived to their table, sitting in between Mike and Lucas. She had her skateboard seated on her lap as she engaged in the three boys’ conversation. As she did this, she kept sneaking glances at Will. Not that Will didn’t appreciate his friends efforts to know if he is okay—they have been doing it for months—he just wished they would be a little more discrete about it. He was a burden to everyone around him. He was sick of everyone looking at him as if he were a baby. Something useless who can’t fight their own battles. Maybe Troy is right. He is a freak. He is brokenly desolated. He is a fairy. It’s just known facts.

As Will’s strokes of the pencil over Chester’s tail slowed, the only reason why he didn’t let the lump in his throat force tears from his eyes is because Max nudged him from under the table. And when he looked up, she had that look in a blue eyes.

 _Talk to me,_ her eyes said desperately. _I’m here for you Will._

He only shook his head, curling his legs up onto the chair, tucking them in so she could nudge him no longer.

The bell rung. All of them got up. Will did his best to avoid Max’s concerned looks; did his best to circumvent Dustin’s questions; did his best to eschew Lucas’s comforting hand. He also tried drowning out Mike’s constant blabber about Jane.

For a moment, Will stopped walking when his eyes met Troy in the hallway. Lucas noticed and stopped as well, waiting patiently for Will.

“Are you okay, Will?” he asked.

“Yeah,” mumbled Will. “I’ll catch you up at break.”

He got a nod in response, because it seemed as if Lucas neither wanted to push Will today. With a kind smile, Lucas wandered off, catching up with the others.

“Byers?” A sickening smile spread across Troy’s features when the others were gone. With the halls isolated from any life, it was just them two. Troy towered over him, making a mockery of Will’s small stature. “S’good to see you. How are you?”

“I’m good,” said Will with a hint of sarcasm and a forced, pathetic attempt at a smile. “What have I done now?”

“Oh, you _know_ what you did.”

Will did in fact know what he had done so wrong. He should have pretended to be sick today just to stay home, hoping Troy would forget the incident from the day before. No, that would never happen. His mum never checked for his physical well-being anymore; whether he was socially inept for the day or not; Will did not blame her. He loved her with all his heart. But since Jane ... well, you know how that goes.

Troy belittled Will every single day. He left the others alone because of Jane; he recognises her. Hopper managed to keep Troy's mouth shut as well as his friend James. But Troy loved to take digs at Will because he was the weakest link in their group. Will believed that fact because Dustin had jokingly said that. It was a joke; Will knew this; but for the last year or so he had given in and accepted that. He really is the weakest link.

There’s Mike, their unofficial leader. Jane, their protector and saviour. Dustin, the glue that keeps them together. Lucas, the intellectual giver. Max, the sane that keeps them grounded. Then there’s Will. What did he do? Mike used to call him the peacemaker of the group. That hadn’t been said in a while. But what good does he do? Point proven; he is the weakest link.

A push to his chest caused him to trip back and land painfully on his side when trying to get a grip on his balance. A new bruise would be forming on his right hip for tomorrow. That would be three this week so far.

“Can’t believe you humiliated me like that, Byers,” sneered Troy.

Will rolled his eyes, pulling himself back up. “S’not my fault you didn’t know the answer.”

“And you didn’t have to look at me like that and plainly say the answer, did you?” An angry flush rose on Troy’s cheeks, travelling to his ears.

Will huffed irritably. “Anything gets you riled up, doesn’t it, Troy? Can’t you get over yourself?” Another push collided with his chest but this time he did not submit and fall. Instead, he angrily fought back by pushing Troy as well. To his delight, the taller boy fell to the floor. But then a certain flow of guilt entered the flood gates of his lungs. It felt wrong doing what Troy did for pleasure. At first it felt good because for years on end Troy had been picking on Will and his friends just because they were a little bit different. But Will isn’t violent. He’s not his dad.

“You’re _dead_ , Fairy Boy,” hissed Troy.

Suddenly, he was up on his feet and grabbed at the collar of Will’s neck line, smashing the smaller into the wall. Will tried fighting his forceful grip off of him to no avail. He was officially trapped.

The first hit came to his middle and he whimpered. Hardly with enough time to focus, another push came over him. Troy climbed over him, lifting his fists and giving a good hit to his face. Again, Will tried to struggle away, but Troy’s stronger and heavier arms held him in place.

Will didn’t cry. There was no point. Even when Troy finally left with bloody knuckles, Will didn’t cry. Which was odd, because he is known as a crybaby.

He made his way through the dead silent halls and went to the boys toilets. Thankfully, it wasn’t the one Troy went too. He saw himself in the mirror and sighed. There were red marks on the side of his neck and cheeks. A split lip spilled blood and a cut by his right eye almost grazed his eye. That eye was now bloodshot. His normal green iris turning a dark, bloody brown.

_How the hell am I supposed to explain this?_

With another sigh, Will did his best to clean up any blood that remained on his body. Bright, red marks were also circling his tiny wrists, no doubt also going to bruise the next day. At first he considered skipping school, which is something he has never done. The thought was chilling but at the same time he didn’t think he would be able to handle anything else the day had in store for him. And when he finally finished up, he nodded to himself.

Slowly and quietly he made his way towards the front entrance of the school. It is technically his choice if he shows up to class or not, so they can’t nuke him for skipping school.

Wind still nipped at his skin. He passed his bike, not in the mood for cycling. He may collect it tomorrow, he may not. It depends if he survives today.

The woods drew near and Will contemplated for the hundredth time whether these were just a huge patch of woods or a forest. Whatever the case, Will can’t bring himself to care.

With no food nor water in his system, Will wandered whether or not to travel far into the centre of the woods. It could be dangerous, but then he came to the conclusion rather quickly that he could not care less.

He travelled further into the woods than he had initially anticipated. So in depth that he was sure he was lost. Irony is great to him. He went missing in the Upside Down, but to locals, he went missing in the woods. Maybe that would happen. And he could actually go missing forever this time. Everyone would be much happier if he weren’t there to screw up their lives all the time.

He found a comfortable place. Trees ran for miles on either side of him. No sound was apparent. Not even birds. Or was that just his imagination? Nothing in his ears sounded real anymore.

He continued to sketch the rest of his dog. When the last flick of the pencil scraped at Chester’s tail, tears fell from his eyes. And it felt so good to cry. Small sobs erupted from his mouth as he pulled the pad close to his face. Cries wracked his tiny frame and his hands shook, shivers coursing down his spine. It was cold. It was so cold. There was an unbearable ache settling itself in his chest. It wasn’t mentally. It wasn’t just emotionally. It seemed like it was physically hurting. His throat closed in and he gasped for breath quietly. His body slowly sank down until he was lying on his side just like he had done most of the time in The Upside Down, shivering from the cold and constant fear on his back.

Words became a puzzle, connecting each and every one together.

_Weak. Useless. Pathetic. Crybaby. Disappointment. Queer._

That’s when his dad’s own disgusted face flashes before his eyes.

_“He’s definitely a queer, Joyce.”_

He heard the defeated tone in his voice. Low and slow.

_“Our own son is a fag.”_

_“No matter what I do, I can’t seem to beat it out of him.”_

His mothers voice came to his ears now. This time, no where near Lonnie. They were concerned. Worried. Her love and desperation there. At first it silenced Will’s sobbing. Then it became this black hole that Will seems to drag everyone into. He drained his mothers energy and happiness. He drained Jonathon. God, if he hadn’t of been born then Jonathon could have gotten the attention he deserved. His mother wouldn’t have to work so hard. The party wouldn’t have to keep on looking out for him.

His breathing only lessened when his eyes travelled through the lines of trees, finding that the sun half covered by clouds was starting to set slowly beyond the horizon. How long had he been here? He arrived here just a little after eleven o’clock after a couple of hours walk around. Now with the sun setting, he quickly checked his watch ... Movements were slow and tired. The time read five thirty. Since it was winter the sun sets earlier. Maybe he should make his way back. He thought about everyone, whether they were concerned for him.

Oh right. He’s probably put his mother in an even bigger stress state. He’s been gone for hours and hours. He’s an even bigger plague than he thought.

He navigated his way through the woods. He found Castle Byers. He then found his home. It was pitch black. Only the sounds of the winds and light _pitta-patta_ of the rain drummed loudly in his eardrums. All lights in his house were off. Both cars, Joyce’s beat up one and Hopper’s police car, was gone.

Shakily, Will allowed his bag to slip off of his shoulders. By the door is where he dumped it, leaving the door wide open. Chester greeted him at the door, barking happily at seeing his boy. But Will stepped past him, which was unusual for him. As of now his mind was working on auto-pilot. Walking through the empty house, trying to steer clear of the echoes of Chester’s barks, he didn’t think once to turn any lights on. Though in the back of his mind he was screaming at himself to turn them on—he couldn’t.

In the bathroom, it was dark and unsettling with no life other than Chester in the house. His hands found Jane’s bottle of either sleeping pills or anxiety pills. He sat with his back against the bathtub and let his eyes scan the bottle in the dimly lit room.

Subconsciously, he unscrewed the cap. Pills fell into the palm of his hands. Too many for a normal amount. With Chester at the bathroom door, whimpering and with Will’s disoriented and exhausted mind, one by one, he drily swallowed each and every pill. He didn't know whether he was trying to kill himself or whether he was trying to calm his shaking and beating heart. It got to the point where he started to feel unbearably sick and finally stopped with taking the pills. The rest in the bottle spilled to the floor as he let them go, making his body relax and fall limp. Chester’s whimpering got louder as Will’s mind became cloudy. His old best friend wandered over and sniffed at Will’s face, even licking him a few times. Will’s hand touched at the dogs head, scratching behind his ears. Then Chester circled and lay down, his body in Will’s lap, wanting him up. Will’s hand found Chester’s back.

Ever so slowly his mind became fuzzy and his vision blurry, blacking in and out. His fingers stopped his ghostly movements and he closed his eyes, letting his head lull to the side. The churning in his stomach started to settle, each and every sense going numb and almost peaceful. And the final sound of Chester’s heavy breathing let him finally embrace his own dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

“Where is Will?”

Mike’s question had everyone fall into silence. It was now lunchtime and only now did they realise their very own Cleric was not there. Well, only Mike noticed at lunch. During break he moped about Jane whilst Max, Dustin and Lucas were tense, searching for any boy who barley touched 5’5 with messy, light brown hair and big, doe-like eyes. No sign. While Mike slumped in his chair, getting out his book, Max had slipped away quietly in search for their little friend whilst Lucas and Dustin stared worriedly at each-other.

Now that it was lunch, Mike finally noticed the absence of his best friend. He frowned when seeing his other friends faces.

“Guys? Where is he?”

“We haven’t seen him since before first period,” said Max. “Didn’t you realise he wasn’t here at break?”

“Max went looking for him,” said Lucas, a slight tone that suggested he was accusing Mike of his lack of knowledge of this old information.

“When?” pressed Mike.

“ _At break!_ ” Dustin burst out in frustration. “Didn’t you _see?_ ”

Mike shook his head, not an evidence of guilt written on his face. All he wanted to know where Will was—that’s all! They were all being a little too sensitive.

“We don’t know where he is, Mike,” said Lucas. “He pulled back from us this morning, acting weird. Didn’t you see he was quieter than usual today?”

“It looked as if he was gonna cry at one point,” commented Max.

Mike shook his head. “He’s fine, guys. Will’s always quiet, as you once stated, Lucas, so I don’t think he would have gone that far. He’s probably just in the library.”

“I checked there this morning,” said Max. “I checked the art block. Home room. Even asked a couple of teachers and a few students. No ones’ seen him. He’s nowhere.”

“It’s almost as if he’s vanished into thin air,” joked Dustin.

“Now’s not the time, Dustin,” said Lucas. Dustin muttered an apology and straightened his posture, becoming serious again. “Anyone notice Troy’s hands today? They’ve been bandaged.”

“You don’t think...?” Max started, unsure.

Lucas nodded. “Will stopped walking with us upon seeing Troy. Something must have happened.”

A round of protectiveness settled within Mike. If Troy had dared to even touch Will, he swears to God...

Loudly, he pushed himself back from the table, startling his friends. He scanned the crowded canteen and his eyes landed on the enemy. Angrily, he stormed over, ready to start a fight. He faintly recalls his friends calling out for him, admittedly drawing unwanted attention from students around them. Troy noticed Mike before he even made it a few metres before him. Grinning from ear-to-ear, Troy sat up from his chair and Mike noticed the bloody bandage.

“Well, Wheeler, what brings you to our table?” The slighter shorter boy gestures to the table he was at. The table where a few, obnoxious bitchy girls sat and immature, dim-witted goons.

“How did you get those, Troy?” Mike grabbed his hand, showing the bandages. Troy yanked his hand back, an even bigger smile spreading across his face.

“Your little boyfriend paid me a little visit, and so I taught him who was really in charge.”

Mike knew that tone. Will had done something to provoke Troy, without meaning to (because even by accidentally bumping into Troy seems to whined him up) and Troy had his own back by making Will a crying, frightened wreck.

“Cried like a little bitch that his is.” The table he sat at all burst into loud, screeching laughs of malice. Something told Mike that Troy was lying about that part. “What’s it like having a fairy for a friend? Might wanna be careful, you know? Might catch his disease.”

Before Troy could continue, Mike swung at him, knocking him in the face. Troy went tumbling to the ground, a pained groan leaving his open mouth. His hand cupped his jaw where Mike had hit him. Lucas and Dustin grabbed Mike’s shoulders but before they could drag him away, he growled out, “Don’t you _dare_ criticise Will for liking boys _ever_ again.”

In the hallway the bell went. Mike shrugged Lucas’ and Dustin’s tight grips on him as Max trailed in front of them. None of them made it to class. They escaped school before they could get into trouble. No one said anything as they got to their bike racks. That is until they all grabbed their bikes and saw that one was left, sitting abandoned and carelessly propped against the racks. That one was Will’s bike.

Not only guilt now settled deep within Mike’s chest—fear did. If Will was nowhere in sight of the school and his bike still stood untouched, where the actual hell was he?

“We have to find him,” said Mike.

“Maybe he went back home?” suggested Dustin.

Mike nodded. “We’ll go there first.”

They rode on. Max had to quickly stuff her skateboard in her backpack, it poking out proudly as she rode on her own bike in between Lucas and Dustin.

They arrived at the Byers residence within a good fifteen minutes and found that Hopper’s police car was not there. Most likely at work whilst Joyce took care of Jane. Quickly, they made their way to the front porch and Mike rapidly knocked on the door. A few moments later, Joyce greeted them at the door.

“Aren’t you all meant to be at school?” she asked, confusion etched onto her tired features and in her voice. Her question made Mike uncomfortable. And he could tell the others felt it as well. If she was questioning them, then it meant Will hadn’t made it home. “Is Will at school?”

Mike’s heart sank. It was confirmed; his best friend was not home.

“We can’t find Will,” stated Dustin. “Something happened this morning and Will hasn’t been sighted in the school.”

“We thought he might of just come straight home,” said Max.

“Come in,” said Joyce hurriedly.

They came in and Mike spotted Jane on the couch who did not look ill, rather she looked on edge and shaken. It was one of her really bad anxiety days. He understood. He’s had a few of them and has stayed off school.

“El...” Mike said and she got up. They hugged and Mike kissed her on her forehead, rubbing at her arms. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” said Jane, hugging Mike around his waist. “Where is Will?”

They pulled away and Mike made sure to keep his arm around her, keeping her close. Joyce’s troubled face came into view. She anxiously lifted her arms and crossed them over her chest, her shoulders hunching slightly. Always something she did when feeling nervous or scared.

“Troy hurt him,” said Mike. “And we think it drove Will away.”

“Oh, God ... We have to find him.”

Lucas explained briefly what Will had been like this morning as they all prepared to go on a little search party for the youngest Byers. Chester circled them all, also seemingly confused at his boys’ disappearance. Jane gave him a bowl full of biscuits to calm his whimpering down with newly, potable water. She then phoned up Hopper to fill in information that they may be gone when he gets home. He made a note to look as well as nothing interesting is going on at work for him to just sit around all day and hope for some excitement. Joyce made a brief mention that Will left without even saying goodbye this morning, which upset her deeply. She found the remains of his breakfast in the rubbish bin as well. Max made a comment on his lack of eating and even drinking. None of them knew whether that piece of information was helpful or just down-right distressing. 

Slowly, they all began piecing things together just as they were ready to go out. Will’s fussy eating. His bones more predominant. The red around his eyes. No eye-contact. No talking. This has been going on for at least the last year or so. Maybe even before that.

“Oh, should I call Jonathon?” Joyce said before they left the house. Jane assured her gently that worrying Jonathon was not needed. He needed to focus on himself. Besides, Will couldn’t of gone far.

So they split.

Max and Mike went into the woods to look; Jane and Joyce went to their little town to look and Dustin and Lucas found their way around peoples houses.

Max found herself talking with Mike about Will as they journeyed throughout the endless rows of trees. Rain started to drizzle around their bodies and both instinctively moved closer together to keep each-other warm. Before she started talking of Will, both were calling out for the youngest. Nostalgia set deep within Mike when calling for his best friend. But not the good kind. More like a common fear of anyone going missing. Most of all, he dreaded Will once again in immoral danger.

“Why did you start ignoring him?” Max asked quietly when they had discontinued their call for their friends name. “Will? Why would you do that?”

“Start ignoring him?” Mike’s tone was offended. “I didn’t start ignoring him. What’re you taking about?”

Max flinched. It reminded her of the first week in Hawkins. Will, Lucas and Dustin were nice and friendly to her. Mike was mean. Along with that, so was Jane, for reasons she just did not understand. Jane had apologised, the two becoming close, but of all the party, Mike and Max still somewhat held a grudge against each-other. At least Mike did with Max.

“I’m not pinning this on Jane, I hope you know that,” said Max. She kicked at a lone stone on the ground, feeling another shiver from the cold discomfort her. “But anyone can notice it. All you ever talk about is Jane if she’s not here with us. If she is, you give all your energy to her. And as much as she loves it, she does like to pay close attention to her other friends too. Are you following?”

There was no answer from Mike for a moment. Then, his shoulders slumped and guilt flashed within his deep, brown eyes. “I’m following,” he said with a heavy sigh.

Max smiled and bravely took his hand. He didn’t pull away. In fact, he pulled her closer. This was no sign of romance. This was a _“I’m sorry”_ from Mike to Max. It was also Max giving him an act of solace. It warmed them.

“Will ... he’s been unwell, Mike. We all fuss with Jane. What she went through was horrific so adjusting to this new life so suddenly is a major, difficult task for her. But I think even she wants to be left alone sometimes. She sees Will and Will sees her. They understand each-other in ways that none of us ever will. She was the first one to call out on Will’s behaviour.”

“Will’s behaviour?” murmured Mike. His grip on Max’s smaller hand tightened ever so slightly before they faltered again, but never letting go. “Can...” he swallowed thickly and Max was afraid he may cry. After all, tears started swimming freely in his eyes, yet never falling. “Can you tell me what’s wrong with him?”

Max’s heart almost physically hurt. Mike and Will have been best friends since kindergarten. Both so young, so small. Years or laughter, fights, tears and sessions all in the one heart between two boys. To Max it was so obvious of Will’s crush on Mike. Unfortunately, when Mike looked at Will, all she saw was friendship. Mike looked at Will as a little brother; they are like twins; they are soulmates, but not romantically. Will looked at Mike as if he had hung the moon and stars. Unfortunately, Mike has never and will never look at Will like that. So seeing Jane and Mike together shattered Will. Not all pieces were broken yet, but as of now, Max was sure Will was treading on thin ice, trying so desperately to dodge the cracks that over-flowed with salty, bitterly, freezing water, trying not to let his guard down and drown in his own, numbing feelings. Max doesn’t want to be the one to tell Mike of Will’s feelings. Will has to do it himself. And she believes he will. At least one day before Will falls in love with another boy that is sure to love him back.

“I don’t know exactly,” started Max, “but he’s stopped eating. Doesn’t sleep by the looks of it. Hardly ever speaks more than just one-worded answer—“

“I’m such an ass-hole,” Mike said bitterly. He pulled away from Max and grabbed at his dark, unruly hair. “I’m such a _fucking_ ass-hole. Why didn’t I see this?”

Max pulled his hands away from his hair. Her soft, blue eyes—just the sight of them—calmed him down. Then, out of nowhere, she stood on her tip-toes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. At first he hesitated. However, the need for comfort from a friend is clawing at his insides. Chocking on a sob, his arms made their way around her middle, both squeezing one another tightly. When they pulled back, Max’s eyes were full of determination.

“We’ll find him and we’ll bring him back to life. Are you with me, Mike?”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

 

* * *

 

 

They searched and searched and searched. All of them did. It was dark by the time Max and Mike walked back to the Byers house. No one else was yet back. Hopper’s car still lacked presence in the driveway as well as Joyce’s car. Dried tears were still marking Mike’s freckled face. The fact that they still had yet to find Will terrified him. What if he had been kidnapped again? God, Will does not deserve any of this. Why couldn’t of Mike gotten caught instead of Will? Sweet, innocent and kind Will. Why would this happen?

Just as Mike was about to fully give up, a gasp sounded from Max. He looked up and found she was running towards the door. The door of which was wide open. By the doorstep laid none-other than Will’s backpack. A gasp came from Mike as well.

Without warning, both friends started frantically calling for his name. The house they entered was eerily quiet when they weren’t shouting. It was dark and cold. Chilling thoughts enetered Mike’s clouded mind. The house seemed vacant and abandoned. It reminded him of some of the abandoned houses him and the boys used to explore when they were much younger.

“Will!” shouted Mike. Tears were building up in his eyes again. Why won’t Will answer his and Max’s cries? “Will! where are you?” He pushed open Will’s bedroom door and saw it vacant. Then Jane’s. Then Joyce’s and Hopper’s. He then angles himself quickly to look in the bathroom and nearly skipped it until he saw Chester. Not only Chester, but the old dog was lying over Will’s lap. Said boy who was leaning at an awkward angle, looking peaceful and asleep. “ _Will!_ —Max, he’s in here!”

Flipping the switch in the hallway, Chester started whimpering. Mike stated in horror at the sight. Will’s skin was pale, from his uncovered hands to his face. He still had his coat on. Everything that he was wearing this morning. Dried mud covered his cheeks and hands as well. One side of his cheek was a deep, tender red as well as his wrists. Lip split with a dried blood spot. His hair was still damp from the rain outside.

“Oh ... Oh, God, Will!” Mike cried. Tears easily spilled over the edge of his eyes as Chester quickly jumped up and started barking. Mike grabbed ahold of Will’s face and ignored the cries of Max in the background. He faintly heard her run from the room and grab at what he thought was the phone, but he didn’t care of that. What mattered was Will.

He still felt warm in his hands as Mike held his face. Only light, shallow breaths left his slightly open mouth and the agonisingly slow movements of his chest indicated to Mike that the boy was literally on his death-bed as of now. And Will’s life was now in the hands of Mike.

“Think, Mike...” he said to himself as he pulled Will towards his chest, both now looking at the open door and into the now lighted hallway. Chester had ran out of the room with Max it seemed. In this moment, Mike felt like they were truly alone in what felt like years. How it had felt before everything went down hill. The way Will was almost lying lifelessly against him. His frail, tiny body almost being completely covered by Mike. And then it hit Mike when he saw the pills scattered on the floor from a bottle. Pills! Will had taken too many pills.

Now in full consciousness, Mike raised himself and Will up so he was beside Will, still holding him up with one arm. Not caring about how close he is or the discomfort it brought to him, Mike forced Will’s mouth open and proceeded to stick his index and middle finger down Will’s throat. He ignored the gross feeling and concentrated on getting Will to throw the pills back up. It can’t be too late. It just can’t be.

Suddenly, Will’s body gave a violent jerk and the smaller boy lurched forward. Mike opened Will’s mouth up more as the boy again lurched forward, this time gagging. Acids and pills past by Will’s lips and onto the tiled bathroom floor. He was gasping for breath, face becoming flushed and feverish.

“There you go, c’mon Will! Don’t you dare die on me, buddy!” Mike yelled as he again stuck his fingers down his friends throat. The boy gave another violent jerk and again threw up what he could. “Y-you’re okay, Will ... you’re okay, I’m here...” Mike whispered into Will’s ear when Will started to doze off again whilst silently whining, whimpering little, long cries. Mike pulled Will back against him, hugging him tightly, hanging on for dear life. He hadn’t realised he was full-on sobbing until he felt the uneasy heartbeat of his friend.

It was almost so calming to hear and he couldn’t help but pull Will closer to his body. He felt the small hand of his best friend grab at his shirt weakly. Mike rocked them, resting his cheek atop of Will’s feathery brown hair. “Shh, it’s okay. Everything’s g-going to be fine.” He knew this because Max then appeared at the door, tears of her own rolling down her red, freckled cheeks. She had the phone just in her hand, able to reach the bathroom. She had called an ambulance. Will was going to be okay... “Hear that, buddy? You’re okay ... you’re okay...”

Joyce and Jane managed to arrive before the ambulance as Max had called them right after the ambulance. Mike still held onto Will tightly who he was trying desperately to keep awake. Joyce ran over, not caring for the mess by the corner and held onto Will’s hand. She was in hysterics, crying and kissing Will on top of his forehead over and over, saying how sorry she was. Jane collapsed into the arms of Max, burying her face into the shorter girls shoulder, also sobbing quietly.

Hopper then came home just as the ambulance arrived. He came home with Dustin and Lucas. Only two people were allowed to travel with Will in the ambulance and Joyce and Mike immediately volunteered. Hopper would stay home and take care of the others. As Will was lifted from Mike’s arms, Hopper placed a kiss of his own to Will’s hair, his blue eyes pained and guilty.

And as Mike sat in the ambulance with Will and his mother, he still couldn’t help the guilt he felt. He may not have started this, but he definitely finished this.

 

* * *

 

 

Bright lights swam in his vision. Soft, murmuring voices floated by his ears. It was pleasant. The voice sounded as if they belonged to his mother and brother. A soft “Will?” was heard and he managed to finally open his eyes. He was instantly reminded of how he woke after escaping The Upside Down. Both his mother and brothers faces came into view. Joyce’s was happy, stroking back his hair and Jonathon was crying, gently holding his hand. His throat was closed up it seemed. He wanted to call for his mum but his vocals were shut.

“No, no, don’t try to speak, baby,” crooned Joyce. “Your throats a little sore.”

Will looked at Jonathon and smiled slightly. Jonathon let out a chocked laugh and leaned over, hugging Will. Will made a weak attempt at wrapping his right arm around his big brother, putting just a little pressure in the hug before giving up again. All the energy he once had has been completely drained of his body. When Jonathon sat back, he realises he is here, in what seemed to be a hospital, by the two people he loved most in the world. How did he survive? Or is he really dead?

Then he remembered.

Vividly, from (he doesn’t know how long) that night. Chester curled around him. He, himself, taking the pills. Mike, his best friend and soulmate, shushing him, stroking his pale, long fingers over Will’s hair.

Some sort of noise came from the back of his throat which agonised him. He tried sitting up but upon seeing this, Joyce and Jonathon shushed him, pushing him back gently on the bed.

“Shh, it’s okay...” Joyce whispered, hand still playing with his hair. “Shh...”

Will wanted to cry. But not in front of his mum or brother. He couldn’t. The moment Joyce started hushing him reminded him of Mike from that night. God, how long had it been since then? Jonathon must of sensed his frustration because he cleared his throat to speak.

“Mike’s in the waiting room,” he said gently. “He’s okay.”

His little gasps of breath turned into a deep sigh as he felt himself relax.

“You’ve been here for a good couple of days, sweetie,” said Joyce.

“H-how long...?” Will started to question but his voice got caught in his throat. He let out a few painful, hooping coughs before lying back down. He didn’t realise his throat was that bad. What happened?

“How long will you be staying here?” said Jonathon. Will nodded. “Doctors said a few more days at the least.”

“For recovery,” said Joyce. “It won’t be much longer until we can take you out.”

Will wondered why none of them were angry at him. What he did was unforgivable. Again, he found his negative thoughts swimming around in his head, the most assertive one being _‘Burden’_.

“Hey, hey, look at me, William Byers.” Joyce’s tender voice turned firm as she carefully turned his head so he could look at her. She saw the distrust and concern in his eyes. She couldn’t let those thoughts corrupt her boy again. “No more of that, okay? Do you hear me? Don’t doubt anything around us. It’s no use letting those thoughts get to your head.”

Will shook his head and whimpered. An uncomfortably, large lump blocked off his voice and started threatening him to cry. This time, Jonathon took the lead and squeezed his tiny hand.

“Will, they’re just silly voices inside of your head,” said Jonathon. “They’re not real and none of what they say is true. We’ll help you if you allow us to ... Will? We’ll help you.”

Another whimper left Will in attempt to speak and not cry. However, his dried throat and mouth left a disgusting taste in his mouth so he decided to keep it shut. Instead, he nodded his head.

He will let them help him. That is if they are willing to do so.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: homophobic slurs, mentions of suicide, descriptions of depression

Mike couldn’t bring himself to visit Will the days he spent in the hospital. He felt it was not necessary. This isn’t Mike being unreasonable, he was being rational in his opinion. Though it may suck and his attempts to tell his friends that him not checking on their friend were invalid, he felt it was best.

The days felt eerily quiet. Mike sat in his basement, a feeling of being isolated trying to suffocate the walls of his mind. The sofa he sat on felt vacant of friends once sitting there. Fingers moved over the soft material where him and Will would spend countless of nights, laughing and just talking. How long had it been since they had done that? Mike shook his head at the rhetorical question. That is something he cannot answer. 

Drawings of their friends laid scattered across the table in the basement. Drawings of Max, Jane, Dustin, Lucas and Mike himself. None, Mike realised, were any of Will. The smaller boy had always expressed to Mike before that drawing oneself made him somewhat uncomfortable. 

Now that Mike had the ill-known knowledge that Will, when he came back home, would be on suicide watch, he pieces together puzzles in his head of what Will didn’t like. 

Did he have a problem with his self image? If so, the never drawing himself would be a little logical. But Mike never found anything wrong about Will’s physical appearance. Yeah, he was a lot smaller than all of them. But Will had always been small. He liked to draw, which was a bit girly, but so many famous artists in the past had been male. So Mike found nothing wrong with that. Was it the scars of the last that Will behold? The rope burns around his ankles and wrists were quite authoritative. The scar that Will held at his hip from Nancy’s handy-work only showed when he was getting changed. Even then, he never liked changing in front of people, before that and after. 

Nothing. Mike could not find anything wrong with Will that would make the boy insecure about his mien. 

Today is the day Will was being realised from the hospital. He had gotten a phone call from Dustin, asking whether or not Mike was going to visits the Byers to check on Will. Regretfully, he said no. He would not be seeing Will. Dustin didn’t sound too happy with his decision but didn’t push it. 

Mike wanted to wait a little longer to see Will. He didn’t think that all his friends piling into the house was good for Will. He would see the boy another day. It was for the best. 

“Michael?” Karen wandered down the basement stairs. The eyes that Mike had inherited looked concerned. She had some milk and cookies on a tray for him. She asked him earlier if he wanted something— _anything!_ —to eat and he had agreed to something soft and worthwhile. 

Still with that concerned, motherly look, she placed the tray down on the table and sat down on the sofa next to him. Subconsciously, he leaned into her and his mother put an arms around his shoulders, rubbing his upper arm. 

“Why don’t you go and visit Will, honey?” she asked gently. Mike only shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Are you going to visit him before he goes to school?”

“Yeah,” mumbled Mike. 

They sat in silence for a while, Mike taking in the comfort his mum had to offer. It was rare they got to do this anymore. Mainly it was because of Mike growing up, him cuddling with his mum making him cringe away. But now he’s taking all the warmth he needs. His dad isn’t going to talk to him about this. Though Karen may not understand or know about the whole story, she still cared deeply about her children and had an idea of where they ‘were’. 

“What do I do?” Mike croaked out after a few minutes.

“What do you mean, sweetie?” crooned Karen, looking down at her only son. 

A couple tears escaped his eyes and he furiously wiped them away. “Will’s my best friend and ... and he did this to himself. What if he tries it again and I’m not there?” He pulled away from Karen’s embrace and let out a small sob. The tears wouldn’t stop. “You sh-should have seen him, Mom. He looked so alone and scared. And I wasn’t there for him. Do you understand me? I’m his best friend and I did-didn’t even know!” Karen quickly pulled him into another hug, letting him cry into her shoulder. 

Slowly, she ran her hands through his messy, greasy hair. He hadn’t bothered with himself in the last week or so since Will. He didn’t want to see anyone. He didn’t want to eat nor sleep. He even found it immensely difficult to face his friends at school. They were all just as gloomy as he was. 

“It’s not your fault, Michael,” said Karen. “Do you hear me? It’s not your fault ... Something terrible must have engulfed Will’s mind to make him feel like that. That poor boy ... he’s broken, Mike. Nothing really can fix that. But maybe ... maybe you can, okay? It may not be your fault, but whatever drew him to his final decision, you can be the one to fix him again.” They pulled back from each-other and Karen held her hands at his face, brushing away the stray tears. “He’s a strong kid. I’ve known him since he was little. So I’ve watched him grow into the boy he is right now. And I know he’s okay. He’s going to be okay.”

Mike nodded miserably and wiped the rest of his tears, glaring at the floor. Karen held his cheek one more time, kissed his forehead and then left. For a while Mike didn’t move. Then, feeling the hunger finally settle in his stomach, reached for a cookie and his milk, savouring the taste. 

 

* * *

 

 

It has been a week later. Whose door he stood in front of right now made him nervous and shaken. The palms of his hands were uncomfortably sweaty. He kept on clenching his fists and then un-clenching them. What would Hopper say to this? More worryingly, what would Joyce say to this? Would she be angry at Mike for not wanting to see her son? Would she kick him off the curb? God, Joyce can be scary when it comes to protecting Jonathon, Jane and Will. 

With a deep breath, he raised his fist and knocked lightly on the door. There was silence on the other end until he heard brief shuffling. The door opened and there stood an incredibly, tired looking Joyce. It reminded Mike of how she looked a few years back when Will went missing and became really sick the year after. 

Surprisingly, her brown eyes lit up at the sight of Mike. She quickly pulled him in for a tight hug, starting him, but he hugged back. 

“Mike, sweetie, how are you?” Joyce said when they pulled back. Mike only shrugged with a small smile. She looked so happy to see him that he almost saw a hint of relief in her eyes. “This is perfect timing. No one else is home. Do you mind taking care of Will until I get back? I need to go and get food for the house. We’re running low.” 

At first Mike hesitated. Look after Will? How the hell was he supposed to do that? However, Joyce’s desperation told him that he had no choice. He had to looked after Will whether he liked it or not.

He nodded and Joyce brightened up. 

“Good,” she said. She invited him in and the house was quiet. 

Joyce led him into the kitchen where her keys and purse were. Awkwardly, he leaned back against the counter, stuffing his hands in his pockets. She turned to him and the look she gave him suggested that he must pay attention as of now. He got off the counter and stared directly at her to show he was listening. 

“Now, Will is asleep right now, but don’t let him sleep for too long. He’s only on the sofa in the living room. His med’s are in here” —she gestured to the right hand cupboard by the sink, tapping it— “and make sure he takes them. Count them. Two at a time. The time is ... ten thirty, so his next dose should be twelve. And please, make sure he eats something before.”

Mike suddenly wondered whether or not Joyce was going shopping at all. Maybe she was taking an advantage of Mike being here, therefore making the most of her day so the two could sort things out. It ran in the Byers family; they are all incredibly sneaky. 

“Mike, can you hear me?” 

Mike blinked himself to wakefulness and nodded. 

“Alright,” said Joyce. She came over and gave him another hug, having to stand on her tip-toes for him. “And do take care of yourself, okay? He’s not very talkative as of late, so be patient.”

“I will, Joyce,” said Mike. “Do take care.”

Joyce was out of the house before he knew it, in the process, shutting the door as quietly as she could. Again, the eerily silence deafened his ears. Joyce has said Will is asleep in the living room, so he lets his feet guide him there.

On the couch, lying on his side was Will. He looked so small and vulnerable. Mike just wanted to scoop him up and cuddle him. They used to do that all the time. They only stopped because Lonnie hadn’t been very big on the idea. 

As Will isn't big enough to take up the whole couch, Mike sat at the end by his head. He had his body curled up into a fetal position, his hands tucked up to his chest. For some reason, Mike felt so bloody happy to see Will’s chest moving. He gently used his left hand to swoop back the messy strands of hair that covered Will’s face.

No, Mike still couldn’t find a flaw on Will. Call him queer, but if he were to pick any boy to marry, he would chose Will. He had lovely, doe-green eyes, a few freckles printed on his soft, baby-like skin and messy, feathery brown hair. A couple of years ago he had finally gotten rid of his bowl cut. Now he just left it messy, some bits sticking up in random places with his fringe combed back slightly. In other words, Will is quite feminine looking.

For a while, Mike only sat there, slowly gliding his fingers through Will’s hair. The air no longer lingering its cold, dusty atmosphere. Instead, peace clung at the edges of this old home. Will’s breathing synchronised with Mike’s own ones. Mike could not find anything in himself to feel bored. Just the sight of Will made him so _so_ happy. He is alive. And Mike slowly began to see that Will is alive because of him.

Another good ten minutes passed before Mike’s hand stopped running through Will’s hair. He brought up his wrist and saw on his watch that it was nearly 11 o’clock. As he he did this, the boy by his lap shifted in his sleep so Mike moved a little, to indicate that someone was there with him. A few moments later, Will’s eyes fluttered open, revealing those soft green eyes. Mike would never admit to anyone that he was rather jealous of Will’s eye colour—they were pretty. 

A small moan of discomfort left Will and Mike got off the sofa, only to lean down onto his knees and come eye level to Will. The boy looked so dazed and a bit feverish—Mike feared he was a little disorientated. However, after a couple of blinks, those pretty green eyes flashed in recognition and a small, weak smile edged its way onto Will’s soft but tired features. 

“Mike?” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, buddy...” Mike whispered back. “You feeling okay?” Slowly, Mike raised his hands and started, like earlier, stroke through Will’s matted hair. He pulled back strands from his face and Will smiled more, leaning into the touch and closing his eyes. He must feel as if he’s dreaming. 

“Mm,” hummed Will. Mike stopped his movements when Will unwound his hands from his chest. They both linked hands automatically and Mike felt so relieved to find how warm and tender they felt. 

_Will is alive, stop worrying yourself._

“Are you hungry?” he crooned as quietly as he could. When he got no response apart form a still smiling, sleepy Will, he took action. To do this, he carefully pulled his hand away from Will’s tight grip and proceeded to start lifting the smaller boy up from the underarms. He was so light it was almost too easy for Mike. It wouldn’t of taken much for him to just throw Will over the shoulder and wander to the kitchen. Of course, he did not do that. “C’mon, you big baby.”

“M’not a baby,” grumbled Will, softly. 

“Sure you’re not,” smirked Mike. 

Will reluctantly—finally—got up. He stood on wobbly feet. Mike—a wave of protectiveness he used to always use on Will—instinctively caught the boy and held him up. A scarlet blush rose onto Will’s cheeks, turning his eyes a light pink colour. Mike found it endearing. He knew of Will’s crush on him. Jane had accidentally blurted it out a short while after Will was emitted to hospital. Though Mike regretfully cannot return his feelings, he didn’t feel awkward at all around Will for it. In fact, he decided that he may not be able to be as close to Will as he is with Jane, but cuddles and kisses never hurt anyone. 

“You okay, buddy?” Mike mumbled, coaxing the boy into standing. Will nodded and leaned feverishly into Mike’s side.

Mike is now wondering why he put off seeing Will for so long. For everyday he postponed meeting Will, he did grieve over. Now, he thought as he led Will to the kitchen table, he couldn’t wait to spend as much time with his best friend as he could. The boy needed help, attention and affection. Not just from his mother, but from his best friend too. Both boys haven’t got the greatest father’s and because of their lack of devotion, the boys always turned to each-other for comfort. Maybe they can both fix each-other up again like they used to. 

Either a time when Will cycled to Mike home, crying, telling him that Lonnie had called him a nasty name or had been shouting at Jonathon and Joyce—Mike was there. When Mike came to Will, upset, crying whilst climbing through Will’s bedroom window, expressing his feelings about how Ted didn’t care for him nor their family—Will was there. 

Mike settled Will into a chair. The boy flopped forwards, heaving a sigh of exhaustion. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, sleepy-head,” laughed Mike. “You want milkshake?”

“We’ve got milkshake?” Will’s delicate voice muffled past his arms. He still didn’t bother with lifting his head. It was quite a comical sight. He was like a new-born, baby puppy. 

“Looks like it,” returned Mike as he took out some chocolate powder from the cupboards. At first he wondered whether this was good for Will to have. Should he be having this? He shrugged at the rhetorical question, figuring a little bit of chocolate milkshake wouldn’t interfere with Will taking his medicine. That needn’t be done until lunch time. “You want some?”

Finally, Will lifted his head. More bits of mused hair fell over his eyes, the back messy and sticking up randomly. He nodded, sniffling and crossing his arms in front of him. He laid his chin in the middle, staring off into space.

Mike got to work. The silence was neither tense nor awkward. However, there was lingering of melancholy in the room and it radiated right off of Will. The walls were caving in on Will and Mike had to act upon that until they fully embraced his tiny frame.

“I was wondering whether you want to watch a movie or something?” Mike suggested as he brought out two, plain cups. “You have a great collection.” When Will didn’t answer, Mike looked back to find Will not even looking at him. Much like before, he was staring off into space. His eyes were unreadable—Will was never easy to read as it was, now he’s making it even more difficult. “Will?”

“Yeah?” replied Will in a quiet voice. 

“Movie?” 

“Yeah,” the boy repeated, not really paying attention. 

Mike sighed. “Will, you gotta stop drifting off, okay?” No answer. “Will?”

“I won’t, Mike,” snapped Will. 

Mike ignored that and poured milk into the cups. When he turned back, stirring the substance, Will was again leaning over the table, arms stretched out in front of him. 

“Will...” Mike sighed and put the cups down. 

If Mike hadn’t known what had gone on, he would have seen Will’s behaviour as acting incredibly childish and unreasonable. However, this was not the case. He had no idea what was going through that boy’s head. He could be sad, those dangerous thoughts still swimming within his head. He could be angry; angry at Mike for making him throw up those pills—those pills which would have been an escape from his pain. Or, in the worst cases, he might not at all be feeling a thing. The lights have gone out in Will’s mind and eyes, ones that held so many creative imagines, now lay blank and unsolved. 

For one, Mike decided that he wasn’t going to get anything out of Will as of now.

He moved the cups further away from Will, letting them settle down. Then, he pulled out a chair and let it lightly scrape against the floor, sitting next to Will. The boy still had yet to look up. With a sigh, Mike stood up, again, lifted Will up from under his arms and brought the boy over and into his lap. Will protested at first, pushing weakly at Mike’s chest before he allowed the boy to pull him close. Mike had one hand on Will’s head, stroking through his hair and the other around his waist. He took advantage of the fact that Will still had yet to have a more favourable growth spurt—the boy was tiny within his arms. A good same size as Jane, and it made Mike’s heart swell with felicity. 

In his subconscious mind, Will leaned up, moaning in contentment and placing a soft, feather-light kiss to Mike’s jaw. 

Mike froze. Did Will just kiss him? If so, why did he? Will should have a fair idea that Mike did not see Will in a romantic way. But at the same time, he knew Will was by no means that dense. Even if he was out of it. He was tired, sad and overall a mess. But Will also knew a red flag when he saw and acted on one. 

Suddenly, away from Mike’s dreamless mind, a shake from Will snapped him away from his thoughts. A short sob erupted from the boy on his lap. Will’s tiny fists were curled at Mike’s sides, his face pressed firmly against his chest. 

“Will?” Mike tightened his grip on the boy, hoisting the boy up more. “Hey, shh, shh...” he hushed quietly.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me...” cried Will. “I’m sorry, Mike...”

“Sorry—what are you apologising for?” Mike said more to himself, eyebrows furrowing into a frown. Without even hesitating, he brought a kiss down to Will’s forehead and another to the corner of his eye. “You didn’t do anything—“

“I did,” sobbed Will. A little whimper escaped his weeping friend. Small, sharp breaths threatened to set the boy into hyperventilation. Mike kept on rocking him, whispering sweet nothings into his ears, crooning and calming him. 

It wasn’t for a while they sat like that. In fact, as much as Mike enjoyed the feeling of Will’s warm, solid body pressed against his own, he was starting to get a little bit uncomfortable. Lack of judgement from his brain told him that Will is stable enough to move. But once he started to remove himself from Will’s tight embrace, the boy started shaking again, knuckles turning paper-white from gripping Mike’s shirt too much.

“Will, don’t make me carry you,” deadpanned Mike. Will moaned, shaking his head, burying himself deeper into Mike’s chest. “Oh well.” Tender to his friend, he lifted him up. He was heavy—heavy enough to make Mike stumble a bit—but Will still remained connected to him like a baby koala. Besides that, he was scarily light at the same time; he should be much heavier than this. All skin and bones—too fragile. Nothing compared to Will at this moment than brand new glass. If you were to make one wrong move, that boy is gone, shattered and broken in thousands of tiny little pieces. 

Mike laid Will back on the sofa. The boy let go, allowing Mike for a brief second to go back to the table and get the abandoned milkshakes. It seems after the little crying session, Will found his thirst. Because when Mike came back on with their chocolate milkshakes, Will dizzily sat up and accepted the drink from his friend. Mike sat next to him, sipping on his own milkshake. He had to keep an eye on the time. He was pretty sure he was meant to make Will some food so he could take his medicines. The curly-haired boy wasn’t even sure what type of medicines they were and how the hell were they helping. 

Silence still hugged the house pathetically. It took all of Mike’s willpower to not just flick the crappy T.V. on opposite them. Will seemed okay, it seemed, but Mike wasn’t. He wanted to so desperately talk to Will about what happened and what troubled Will so much to lead to that kind of situation. But he feared the boy would knock back a turn. He didn’t want to upset Will and he knew if he so much as brought the thought up, it would land him stuck-in-time. 

Discretely, Will moved over and snuggled up against Mike. Mike was unsure of what to do. He couldn’t just leave Will like that. Carefully setting his milkshake down, he leaned back and wrapped and arm around the boys shoulders, letting Will bury his head by his chest. He was warm because the house was radiating heat thanks to Hopper. The fingers Will bore closed around Mike’s own hand, pressing them against his cheek. 

Mike didn’t think Will cared anymore for his dignity. He just needed affection and reassurance. And Mike was sure to make that happen. It didn’t make him at all uncomfortable. After all, this was Will. A great friend he’s had since he was four-years-old. They’re practically brothers, but maybe a little deeper than that. 

For a while, they sat. He could feel the uneasy breathing of Will against him. It made his own breath a bit ragged. It was not comforting—Mike isn’t going to lie. They had to do something. 

He finally finished his milkshake and yawned. He was getting restless, so sitting here was no longer an option. He suddenly rose, startling Will and stretched his arms far above his head. 

“C’mon, Will.” He reaches down and tugged at Will’s wrist. The boy flinched, sending his confused gaze towards Mike. “Let’s go out. For a little walk, maybe? To get some fresh air?” 

As he said this, he wandered into the kitchen to collect Will’s medication. He ran his fingers along the cupboards until finding the right one. Opening it, he sighed when he saw not only Will’s medication, but Jane’s as well. He was also not surprised to see some for practically the whole family. Hopper and Joyce can get really bad anxiety sometimes. As of this moment, Mike found two bottles of pills worth with the name **_W_ _illiam Byers_** written on them. Sighing regretfully—not without shaking his head a bit at the nightmares that would sure to threaten him tonight—he picked Will’s up and closed the cupboard. He did a once over on whether or not it was the right one. He remembers Dustin and Steve referring to these as ‘Happy Pills’. Whether that was a joke or not, Mike can no longer find it funny. 

“Will?” 

Mike turned off the lights in the kitchen and turned a sorrowful look his friends way when he found the boy still on the sofa. 

“Will...”

The older boy placed the med's down on the coffee table and proceeded to lift Will into a standing position. Will shrugged him off, grumbling something.

“What?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Right! Will has to eat something before he takes his medication. 

“I don’t care,” Mike found himself saying. “After we have some food and you take that” —he pointed solely to the bottle— “we’re going out for a walk. Being cooped up inside this house isn’t doing you any good, Byers.”

By the time Mike had stopped talking, Will had the most miserable looking face on as possible. Almost like a kicked puppy. Mike knew that forcing Will to do things was wrong; in fact, one had to take their time. But Mike wanted to talk to the boy. Yes, he could easily do it inside of Will’s home. But it was stuffy—almost humid in here—during the middle of winter. He needed what was called fresh-air. And so did Will. 

After a few more—painful—moments, Will scooted passed Mike and made his way to the kitchen. Again with the stubbornness of the Byers. 

The taller boy found Will standing on his tip-toes to reach a tin that was presumably filled with biscuits. He supposed that wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Mike walked over, leaned over Will so his chest was pressed again Will’s back and legs almost tangling together, he took the tin of biscuits with ease and stepped back, giving them to Will. The smaller boy blushed and snatched the tin. His short legs wandered over to the table and started getting out at least a few biscuits. 

“You want a drink with—“ began Mike.

“Yes,” Will interrupted curtly. 

Before filling up a cup of cool, fresh water for Will, he went back to the living room to retrieve the tablets. He found in the kitchen on the table that Will had barley managed a full biscuit. And it broke Mike’s heart just a little more. Could he not eat? Or was he just so reluctant. 

Despite their tiny feud going on, Mike came over and pulled a chair beside Will. He didn’t need to say anything. It was better not to. Will must do this by himself. If he is to have help every single time, then he will never learn. 

He sat. He waited. From the corner of his eye, he saw the shake in Will’s hands; the tremble that ran through his body and shook him to the core. His breathing irregular and coming out in soft whimpers. If Mike didn’t know any better, he would say that Will was on the brink of an asthma attack. Slowly, Mike lifted his hand and placed it at Will’s neck. His thumb and fingers squeezed at the base, giving him a light message to calm him. Even the boy’s neck was tense.

“Are you okay?” questioned Mike quietly. It still made Will jump. Mike moved his hand up to his soft hair, jealous of the dead-straight hair Will had inherited. 

He ate them. He nodded, leaning into Mike’s touch. For whatever reason Mike could not answer, he scooted over and planted a kiss on Will’s cheek. It lasted for a good second before he pulled away. A lovely shade of red coated Will’s cheeks. What made Mike more jovial was that a small, genuine, shy smile graced Will’s lips. And he didn’t feel weird for kissing Will so personally. It wasn’t how he kissed Jane; ones with true love and devotion. The ones he had been giving Will are puppy love with pure affection and comfort.

“See? You can do it.” 

Mike gave the water and pills to Will. Without a word or even nod of acknowledgement, Will took out two pills—Mike was never specified on how many to take—and down them with a good full of water. When he gently put the glass back down, Will finally looked at Mike. The smaller ones lips were pink, flushing a deep shade of red. Creeping along his cheeks and the white of his eyes bruised a pink colour. Mike didn’t know how exhausted Will was until this moment. However, this did not stop him from wanting to drag the youngest outside for a little talk. It was now or never. 

“Ready to go out, Byers?”

A small nod from Will indicated for his approval. 

They both went out into the hallway towards the door. Mike made sure Will was wrapped up warmly with his shoe laces tied and coat zipped up to the top. It wasn’t cold enough to need gloves and a scarf, though they may want to keep their hands inside of their coat pockets.

The wind that hit their faces not only came as a shock to Will—especially—but to Mike as well. They made sure to close and lock the door before heading towards the woods. 

Mike led them into a different direction from Castle Byers. He just wanted to walk. He didn’t want to sit. Although Will seemed rather weak and tired at the moment, some exercise would do him good. 

It wasn’t until a good ten minutes later did Mike realise they were in the same place him and Max were searching for Will just last week. 

“Why did you drag me out here, Mike?”

Will’s soft-spoken voice broke the silence deafening the woods. His feet—much smaller than Mike’s—avoided any big logs and stones that would bind him to the dirty ground. His doe-eyes were watering, nose running slightly from the cool air. Mike wanted nothing more than to take Will into his arms and protect him from any person or creature that ever came their way. He only ever felt like this with Jane and his little sister Holly. He guessed Will was now apart of that band. 

“You can drop the word ‘drag’. It makes it sound like I have you here in chains.”

“You do.”

Light laughter ripples through the air. Will’s smile still straining his face even after the crappy joke. 

The laughter then died down into a slight comfortable silence. Mike found this the time to talk. Though it was calming, he needed these weights lifted from his chest.

“Why did you do it?”

He knew what he was going to say. That doesn’t mean he did not want to slap himself in the face for asking such an absurd question. It’s been a week—maybe he should give his friend more time for that answer. But Mike was so desperate for it. He just wanted to know why Will would ever do something like this. Guessing he did know some, minor details. It was not enough. Not for Mike. 

Will carried on walking, having to take longer strides to keep up with Mike. He didn’t look upset; rather he somewhat looked apathetic. Mike wasn’t sure whether he wanted to see that or see Will with emotion. His eyes ... once so green and full of imagination ... now shone with the light of a dying flower, it’s colours disintegrating and petals breaking and falling to their end. The hands that were once so elegant with a pencil and paintbrush shook under the pressure of someone observing too closely to him. Lastly, his smile. Where had it gone? In spite of his father and hardly ever seeing his mother from work, Will still managed to hold the smile and peace within their group. 

When something negative occurred, no one would know until Joyce told the boys to look after him at school that day. He still smiled.

Now? Now it was gone. And when did it go? Mike did not know. He was the worlds shittiest friend. 

“Will?” Mike tried. 

“Mike.”

The name was almost an echo from the old Will that everyone wants to see again. Would they ever see that Will again? 

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s not your fault, Mike.” Will turned his gaze from the trees and directed it towards the taller boy. Mike looked back, eyes soft with apology and guilt. “You didn’t realise, you goof. I just missed you. And it hurt me that you weren’t paying attention to me. I was being a little pathetic, wasn’t I?”

“Byers...” Mike groaned inwardly. He let himself rub at the sudden tears that sprang to his eyes. “You make it sound worse than it is. We’ve talked—the party and I—and they could not have agreed more than what I am about to say. Look at me, Will.” 

They stopped and Mike stood in front of Will. He was growing a bit. The top of Will’s head now came to Mike’s eyes, which was quite the surprise. Then again, Mike himself was still growing. No matter what, in Mike’s eyes, his best friend will always be the smallest. 

Hesitantly, Mike reached for Will’s lithe fingers, squeezing them into his own. 

“What happened was not your fault, okay? None of us ... even Jane said ... that none of us cared enough to save you. That we couldn’t see past your fake façade of smiles and ... and your own happiness. We failed to realise you were hurting. You never said anything, who could blame you? We didn’t exactly give you any confirmation of leaning help towards you.” 

“Mike...” came Will’s response. 

“No, you listen to me, Byers.” Will closed his mouth, tears swimming at the edges of his eyes, catching onto his long, blonde eyelashes. “I am so sorry. For not being there for you. For not being able to see any of this happening. You’ve got to promise me one thing.”

“What is that?” mumbled Will, eyes now dropping slightly. 

“Tell me—anytime—I don’t care how busy I am—tell me where you are hurting. When you are. And what I can do to help. Even if I can’t help. I just need to know.” 

“But why?” pressed Will. “I’m not trying to catch any empathy or sympathy for that matter, Mike. There’s me, the weakest link; what am I to do that will bring any use to the group?”

Mike couldn’t take it anymore. With one, swift move, he leaned down and pecked at Will’s soft, plush lips. It was just a quick kiss, nothing too serious. He didn’t have any romantic feelings for Will, and he hoped the younger boy knew this. But he needed to kiss Will. He wanted nothing more than to hold Will tightly and pepper him in kisses all night long. 

Will seemed to understand what Mike was getting at. Because unlike any other person, instead of kissing Mike another time, he stepped forwards and wrapped his arms tightly around Mike’s waist, burying his head into his chest. Gratefully, Mike wound his own arms around Will’s shoulders, holding him fixedly, placing another kiss to the crown of his head. 

“Thank you, Mike. Thank you...” A small rattle of a sob escaped Will. 

“Hey, shh, shh...” Mike started rocking him, a hand coming up to play with Will’s hair. “Shh, I’ve got you. And I’m never letting you go; you hear me, you idiot?”

“You’re such a jerk...” Will’s vocals were muffled by Mike’s jacket, but the taller of the two heard and chuckled lightly. 

“Isn’t that what makes me so special?”

They stood there for a while longer, memorising their own scents and breathing in the warmth from each-other. Mike knew for a fact that Will wasn’t going to get better just like that. It would be a long—very long—agonising process for all of them. This was only the beginning. 

 

* * *

 

 

When they walked back, Mike took ahold of Will’s hand and tucked it into his coat, both giving off extra warmth. 

And Mike did not leave when Joyce came back this evening with Jane and Hopper. 

Hopper kept on giving Mike the death stare. But welcomed him. 

“You joining us for dinner, Mike?” asked Joyce. 

“Yes please, Joyce,” Mike called back. 

Him, Will and Jane were sat on the floor of the living room, playing an old board game that came from Bob years ago. 

Currently, Jane was winning. She also kept on sneaking glances at Mike and Will, smiling to herself. She didn’t want Mike to hurt her brother again like that. He didn’t mean it. But this time, the party are going to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. 

“Suckers!” Jane yelled with triumph when she won not only minutes later. 

“You always beat me at this game,” whined Mike, pouting. 

Will was smiling, not saying anything. Mike didn’t want to worry too much about this, but he couldn’t shake off the concern. Before he could observe any further, Joyce called them all for dinner. Just as she had said this, Jonathon came bustling through the door, backpack hanging off of his shoulder. 

“Sorry I’m late!”

Jonathon had managed to get a couple weeks off just to stay with Will. Oh, how much Will adored his big brother. At the sight of him, he got up and ran over like a little kid and hugged him. Jonathon happily gave him a snuggle back, ruffling his hair.

“You alright, bud?” 

Will nodded. “Yeah.”

Joyce dishes up their dinner as they welcomed Jonathon to their little family dinner. If anything, Will included Mike as apart of the family. How could one not? He was mostly always there, despite the fact that he had a bigger house. And though before he seemed to always come for Jane, he now came for Will, Jane, Joyce and Hopper. If Jonathon happened to be there, so be it. He wanted to be apart of the small family of Byers/Hopper’s. 

Mike sat in between Will and Jonathon with Jane opposite him. The food that Joyce cooked gave Mike a sense of nostalgia. He hasn’t eaten with them for a while. Being a teenager with a girlfriend and awesome friends has them going out every night to eat take away. 

All in all, the evening in itself was a soothing and harmonic atmospheric night. As the winter sun set and created an orange, pink glow among the room, Mike announced that he was going to be staying the night. When offered a blanket and sleeping bag, Mike shrugged Hopper off, saying that he would be fine. To make sure there was no more arguing, Jonathon settled on sleeping on the sofa. Him and Mike eyed each-other at that, as for the past week or so, Jonathon had been sharing a room with Will as to keep an eye on his baby brother. 

Will was confused as to why Mike had declined the offer to sleep on the sofa. It’s no secret between the party that Mike and Jane have shared a bed a few times—even more than that. They never really kept anything a secret. So he just assumed Mike would be spending the night with Jane without Hopper’s knowledge.

So as everyone made their way to bed, Mike stayed in the living room with Will while Jonathon stayed in the dining room working on some collage papers. The younger boy didn’t want Mike’s sympathy. He decided on speaking his thoughts.

“You don’t have to stay with me twenty-four seven, Mike,” mumbled Will. “I’d bid you goodnight.” Slowly, Will rose and went towards his room. Before he could close the door, Mike was there, startling Will. The taller pushed his way in and then shut the door.

“Stop leaving me in the dark, Will.”

“But Mike—“

“You’re such an idiot.”

Mike grabbed hold of Will’s wrist and dragged him towards his bed. Without even asking, Mike turned on his little nightlight. He saw the blush that painted itself on Will’s cheeks at the sight of having a nightlight at sixteen-years-old. 

“Will."

The boy didn’t look at him. Shakes consumed his tiny frame. A hand made its way to his shoulder. He flinched back.

“Will?”

No; Will did not want to look at him. He was so ashamed. He likes Mike, and his best friend knows that. It’s only just dawning in him and he doesn’t think he can live with that. The kiss from earlier meant nothing. 

“Will, it’s okay.” 

Faintly, Will felt Mike’s hand find his own. Taking advantage of his friends daze, he grips tightly and scooted over to Mike. The taller boy took him in, almost placing Will in his lap. 

“I came in here to sleep,” murmured Mike. He had his hand rubbing at Will’s upper arm smoothly. “Is that okay? Are you okay with that, Will?” 

The latter nodded. 

When Mike sneaked a peak at Will changing, a churning set deep in his stomach when seeing the outlines of each rib Will had. The scar from years ago left on his hip. The rough pink out-lines of the rope burns he received. He looked so frail and broken. How had he managed to survive this long? Why didn’t anyone notice? 

“You can stop starting, Mike.”

Mike blinked and found Will self-consciously covering himself. He was about to put on his night shirt when he found Mike staring. The curly-haired boy looked down at his sweater that he had been saving to wear for tomorrow. Instead of putting it back in his bag, he chucked the sweater at Will. 

“Put that on.”

Will dithered and cast Mike a long look. “Don’t patronise me, Mike ... please.” 

“Patronise you?” repeated Mike, pulling up his pyjama bottoms on. “I’m not.”

“You are. Just admit it.”

Mike shook his head, not being able to help the smile that made its way on his face. “Will, Will, buddy...” He came over and pushed the sweater to Will’s naked chest. “I know, okay? But the thing is, I do not mind. In fact, it’s endearing. By no means am I trying to humiliate you. Why would I do that?” Mike faked a hurt face and Will giggled.

“I don’t know.” Will pressed the sweater to his face, snuggling into it. 

A ruffle to the hair made Will kick Mike in his shin and finally pull the sweater over his head and onto his small frame. Mike admired the view. The small boy drowned in his sweater, the sleeves slipping over his fingers and into sweater paws. The bottom fell to his mid-thighs which were also bare and smooth. Mike didn’t know to judge Will of having smooth thighs; in the other case: was it a gay thing? Mike didn’t care. But it reminded him of how smooth Jane’s slim legs were. 

Swallowing, Mike looked away, blushing deeply before Will could notice. It wasn’t making him uncomfortable; shamefully, he liked the view and Will wearing his clothes. Just as much as he enjoyed Jane wearing his clothes. 

“Are you okay, Mike?”

“Yeah.” Mike turned and saw Will sitting on the bed. He hasn’t bothered with putting some pyjama bottoms. He sat cross-legged, hands laying delicately in his lap. Yeah—Mike is okay with this. “Go on.” He climbed on, crawling over to Will and nudging him. 

“What?”

Mike laughed. Quietly, almost nervously. “Under the covers. You look cold. Let me warm you.”

Will heed with Mike and did as he was told. Mike climbed after him, settling the blankets around them and keeping it warm. He slowly slipped his arms around Will’s thin waist, feeling the cotton material of his sweater between his fingers. The boy he was now holding, his back pressed against his chest, was visibly shaking and the short breaths that came out were ragged and wheezy.

“Shh, it’s okay...” 

“I know.”

 

* * *

 

It was a couple of weeks before Will was able to go back to school. No one really knows what had happened to him. Mike dealt with the horrid slurs and comments Troy threw at him and the party for the while. 

Somehow, Troy worked it out. He wasn’t one of those dim-witted boys who played on the football team and fucked anything that pretty much had a pulse. But he is intelligent, and has some common sense. It annoyed the undying shit out of Mike. 

So when it came the day Will made it to school, Mike kept his right mind and self in arm distance with Will. He didn’t want anyone giving the boy any trouble today. 

Somehow, Troy found out.

“Byers! You’re back!”

The party stopped their talking. Mike was sitting next to Will, carefully making sure the boy was eating. They were all fairly quiet. A comfortable atmosphere sparking between them like a little camp-out. That was until Troy’s obnoxious voice sounded from behind them. Max had this cold stare and Mike looked like he was ready to throw Troy to the ground. Dustin, Jane, Lucas and Will remained stoic as to not give Troy any unwanted reaction.

When Will turned around and valiantly looked Troy in the eye, a feeling of dread settled itself deep in his stomach. Troy had that usual malicious sneer on his face. The hands that had beaten Will bloody were now healed, maybe even a little scarred. The cuts that Will conjured now scarred on their own, the bruises finally fading from their ugly, yellow colour. The evidence still there, but Will didn’t flinch. 

“I was hoping those pills would finish you off.”

Will still gave no reaction. Though the comment hurt; it hurt so _goddamn_ much that all he wanted to do is curl up in on himself and let the dark of his mind consume him until he was there no more. 

Lucas stood up, fists balled and eyes flared to widen with rage. “That’s sick, Troy,” he hissed. “You’re sick.” 

Troy scoffed. “I’m sick?” He lifted his hand and gestures to himself. Then, he pulled his hand away from his chest and sternly pointed at Will. “Fucking fairy faggot could not have done a better job. Obviously, it wasn’t enough.” 

“Anything wrong with being a faggot, Troy?” queried Mike, mocking his own, high tone. 

“Do I need to really answer that question?”

“Perhaps you do,” said Jane. 

The whole party were now standing up, each almost circling Troy like their very own prey—to capture him and decide on whether or not it was best to either mortify him or leave it all alone. 

Mike put an arm around Will’s shoulders. The taller boy was surprised at how calm Will was and how on Earth he was tolerating Troy at this moment. But then again, this was always Will’s gift; to keep up on the smiles and courageous aspect. 

“Have you caught the disease yet, Wheeler?”

Mike shrugged. He then pulled Will towards him and assertively pressed his lips onto Will’s. In front of everyone; in front of Jane, Troy, perhaps others were looking over in the cafeteria. (After all, everyone loved a good party vs Troy fight). And when he pulled back, Will had the shyest but most adoring smile on his face. He wasn’t disappointed and horrified that Mike had just kissed him in front of the party, Troy and the school. 

He faintly heard the commotion in the background. People either on their side or on Troy’s. Either way, Mike seeing Will smile so authentically just made Mike so ... so happy. 

Dustin and Lucas were then pulling Will and Mike away from the cafeteria, Jane and Max right behind them. 

“ _Dude_ , what the hell was that?” exclaimed Dustin. He didn’t sound mad; he didn’t seem upset; he was smiling from ear-to-ear, obviously very pleased with his friends. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

“To prove a point,” shrugged Mike. He still had an arm around Will’s shoulder. Jane giggled, standing on her tip-toes and kissed Mike’s cheek. She then aimed a smile at Will who returned it, just as happy. 

“We’re such idiots,” said Max. She let out a laugh. “We’re such _idiots_.” 

“They’re gonna be on all of our asses now,” said Lucas.

“And do we care?” Jane crossed her arms over her chest.

“No,” mumbled Will. “No, we don’t care.”

“Damn-straight we don’t,” said Mike. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would like to apologise for such the late update. i had been revising for gcse's since january, so i'm surprised i ever had the time to write. then a month and a half of them as well in may to june. i managed to update other stories (such as my marvel one) because they were short chapters whereas this one, again, over 8k words, something i am not used to. so this took a long time of writing and editing. so, i do hope you enjoyed it xD
> 
> -alifetime


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